


be with me always, take any form, drive me mad

by k0skareeves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (even if they're still denying it), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Dark!Jon, F/M, Family Secrets, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k0skareeves/pseuds/k0skareeves
Summary: This story starts, as most stories do, with a wish.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81
Collections: Jonsa Holidays 2020





	be with me always, take any form, drive me mad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreams_for_spring](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreams_for_spring/gifts).



This story starts, as most stories do, with a wish. 

A wish a little girl makes on her birthday, one she celebrates in sadness and grief after losing her mother. It’s not a recent loss, no, on the contrary. The girl had actually never met her mother. She died while giving birth, and the girl had been raised by her father and his family, and everything seemed to be perfectly fine, except for the emptiness that she felt deep inside her tiny heart the more she grew. So, on her sixth birthday, she wished for someone to come and take care of her. Someone good and kind and lovely, someone who would make her feel better, and more importantly, someone to help her father smile, because in the six years she’d been alive Lyanna had only seen her father smile a handful of times and honestly that was quite dreadful, wasn’t it? So she made a wish on her birthday, and as she blew away the candles on her pink cake, she could already feel a shift in the air, a shift that would certainly bring that new someone into their lives, to fix things, to look after her, and to bring happiness to her father’s usual somber face.

That someone was, in fact, Miss Sansa Stark, a young woman of twenty five years of age, who was excepcional with children, and had just applied for a nanny job that recently became available at the Targaryen Residence. Not an easy position to fulfill, given the rumors surrounding the family. Rumors that were, fortunately for Miss Sansa, only mostly true.

And thus, three days after Little Lyanna’s birthday party, a red headed young lady climbed up the steps of the Targaryen Residence, unaware that her wit and will had not been the only things to get her on this path. There was also a child’s wish, and not just any child, but the daughter of a powerful man, a man capable of many things if he wanted, such as bending fate to his will, even if he too was unaware of this fact.

* * *

“Have you seen my shoes?”

Her voice came out louder than she meant to, shakier too, a sign of her nervousness, and that made his lips curve just a smidge, a shadow of a smile hanging from the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that the woman could not see, and therefore the only reason why he had allowed himself to even react to her presence. 

Leaning against the room’s doorway, Sansa Stark looked at the man’s back. Jon Snow sat quietly by the window, colors scattered all around him, a paintbrush between his fingers. His precise strokes at the once blank canvas were fascinating to watch, yet not as fascinating as his whole body moving along with the brush, muscles tensing and relaxing depending on where his fingers worked next. Her boss was the owner of true beauty, and as much as she did not want to, his presence always made her feel aware of her whole body, as if being watched by a hungry animal just waiting for a moment of weakness from her.

“And why would they be in here?”

Still focused on the painting, he spoke to her with a tone that very much suggested he did not like being interrupted. That was true most days, but right now it was a lie. A lie she had no way of knowing, given the little attention the man had given her during the one month since she’d been hired. Sansa’s heart rate accelerated, worried that she might be disturbing him. Despite all, she still feared his rage, even if by now she was used to his foul mood and his lack of words. To annoy Jon Snow was a dangerous thing to do, even for the people he did not consider enemies, which was hopefully the case with her, but one could never be certain of what went on inside the man’s head.

_ (Arya would tell her to be careful around him. But Arya didn’t know where she was.)  _

“Lya was playing with them this morning.” She still lingered against the doorway, waiting for any recognition that she was allowed inside the room. Jon gave her none. “Rhaenys took her out a little ago, and I thought she might have left them here. I already looked everywhere else, and I have to be downtown in fifteen minutes.”

Jon was silent. His painting had become a very beautiful landscape of somewhere she thought she knew, but was not sure. A castle surrounded by snow. Something she’d seen in a dream, maybe, or a half forgotten memory from a different life. It didn’t matter right now. She looked at her watch, annoyed by his silence. Today was her day off, for fuck’s sake. She needed to leave, and did not have time for his lack of interest in other people.

_ (Annoyed by his lack of interest in her, but that she would not admit.) _

“Do you mind if I look around?”

He gestured with his free hand, not bothering to look at her face once. Frustrated, Sansa rolled her eyes and entered the room without any ceremony. It was massive, beautiful, and dark, just like he was. Books were piled up here and there, along with a dozen of unfinished sketches, and as much as she wanted to stop and admire things, the feeling of being in Jon’s personal space made her slightly uncomfortable. Almost as if she was not worthy of his presence. It was bullshit to feel that way, but she still did.

She kneeled down to look under the bed, and there they were. Little grey ankle boots, with tiny heels on them. Her favorite ones. Lyanna had called them “witch shoes” and Sansa supposed they were, even if she wasn’t really a witch.  _ Not yet, at least, and not for the lack of trying. _ This was the point of all this, even if she sometimes forgot it. To win over Jon Snow’s trust so he would agree to tutor her, to be her mentor in the study of the supernatural arts. Being his daughter’s nanny was just a means to an end, or at least that’s what she would tell herself at night, in bed, before falling asleep. Her dreams would usually take her to strange places, and she liked pretending she didn’t know who was the figure standing next to her. It was all in her head anyway so it didn’t matter, and she would go on pretending not to know for as long as she could.

Blinking herself back to reality while her heart hammered in her chest, Sansa reached her arm to grab the shoes when she saw a tiny wooden box hidden in the dark. Her curiosity heightened, and she felt a pull towards the objets, her hands begging her to grab it. Did bad men also hide their secrets under their bed, like normal people?

_ (He’s not a bad man. He’s just...lost.) _

“Found what you needed?”

Startled, she banged her head against the bottom of the bed, and a small chuckle escaped the man’s lips, too low to be heard by Sansa and thus the only reason why he allowed himself to react. Blushing everywhere and in pain, she got up, holding the pair of boots in one hand and massaging her head with the other. Jon was now looking at her, grey eyes piercing and cold, scanning her much like he had done when they first met at his front door, and however hard she tried, she could not figure out what his expression meant. There was silence between them, and a tension Sansa could not bring herself to break. His hand reached up to her face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she found herself catching her breath as his cold fingertips caressed her cheek softly before he dropped his hand once more.

Sansa’s hand clutched the boots more fiercely, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She found her voice, desperate to fill in the silence. “Lya hid them under the bed. She was pretending to cast a spell on me, even though they’re ginormous for her little feet. I swear I levitated just a little bit. She’s gonna be a great witch someday.”

His eyes travelled through her, as if trying to figure out why it was that everyone, including his own daughter, were so inclined to let her in. He locked his gaze with hers once more, and smiled softly, unable to hide it this time, before turning away from her, his attention now back on the unfinished canvas. She inexplicably felt her cheeks get warmer, and hated herself for the stupid reaction. Why did he make her so nervous?

Sansa felt her phone buzz inside her purse; she needed to go. Rushing to get out of the room, she stopped once more at the doorway, and turned, lips parted, as if to say something. She wanted to stay, to linger just a bit longer. She wanted to ask about the box too, and the dreams she was having, and the landscape, wherever that place was. Still, it was better if she didn’t. Jon seemed to pay her no mind once more, and things were better this way, keeping under his radar, at least for now, while she figured out the best way to make her intentions known. He was too powerful, too knowledgeable, and having his attention could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on his moods. So she simply put on her shoes and left, and as he heard her go down the stairs he wondered once again why it was that he agreed to keep her around, yet that was something he already knew.

Admitting to it though, was a whole different story.


End file.
